A year later
by Katlyn
Summary: A year after the events of the story, Evey has become one of the faces of the new government. What happens when she's not needed anymore? A three part fic.
1. Chapter 1

Part one of a two-parter, perhaps three.

Takes place a year after the events of the novel/movie.

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The streets were cold and dark. The orange glow from the streetlights didn't go far in the dense fog and Evey pulled her grey overcoat tighter around her small figure as she buried her nose deeper in the thick woollen scarf that encircled her neck. Her footsteps sounded, staccato off the bare walls that lined the streets. Even though the curfew was no longer in place, she was alone on the street. Old habits were hard to break, it seemed, and most people were home before eleven, safe in their rooms and their beds. A particularly strong gust of late October wind seemed to go straight through Evey's coat and she quickened her steps, not wanting to freeze before reaching home.

The key clicked in the lock and a sparse room was revealed. The jacket was thrown onto a chair as she passed through the space, not bothering to turn on the lights, she knew the way by memory, and there was precious little to clutter the path to the bedroom at the back of the apartment..

The hot shower did little to relax her, and she settled on the couch for another sleepless night as she pulled out a pile of papers taken from work, there was so much that still needed doing… Along with Dennis Finch, Evey had become the face of the new political movement, getting rid of the Norsefire dictatorship after its leaders had been killed not yet a year ago. It was a brilliant political union, Finch had the authority from his previous position with the Nose, and Evey represented the country's hero, the only person who had actually known him. Between them, they had won most of the population over, although there were always those who would opt for Norsefire, those for whom it had been a better life than otherwise. Norsefire still existed, its members were quite vocal in their disapprobation of the new government, but they hadn't caused as much trouble as had been expected in the beginning.

She had worked hard from day one, to create the new order, but it had taken its toll, and of late, she had felt more iconic than useful, she wasn't really _needed_ anymore, which galled her. She was trotted out on ceremonial occasions sure enough, but she was just a symbol rather than anything useful.

The sun started showing through the un-covered window and Evey stared blankly at the wall. It wastime to go. She wasn't needed, everything was in place, and the country would be as fine as it ever could be. Exhaustion and depression died down for a moment, and the clarity of what she had realised took their place. It was time to go, she could leave and it would all be fine, she could finally rest.

Wonder overcame her mind as she left the flat, taking only the clothes she was wearing and not bothering to lock the door behind her, there was no point, she wouldn't be returning here.

She wandered the streets aimlessly, taking joy in her newfound freedom, she didn't know where she was headed, she just needed somewhere to stop and rest, away from the world. No-one seemed to recognise her and she was glad of it. With a faint smile, she realised she didn't look much like the Evey Hammond that appeared on TV anymore. That Evey was dressed and made up, she looked happy and inspired, eager to move the country forward. The Evey that wandered the streets that morning was thin and drawn, once bouncy champagne curls lying limp and pulled back into a low ponytail. If she could have seen herself from the outside, she would have said that she looked ill, but she barely spared herself a glance in the windows she passed by.

Her wanderings took her further from her flat and it was with surprise that she realised she recognised her surroundings. Looking around herselfproperly for the first time in hours, she saw that she had returned to the place that hid the Shadow Gallery. To go in or not to go in… she chewed on her bottom lip, unsure.

She turned away.

She would come again in five days, the fifth of November; it would be more fitting, that way. Turning her footsteps away, she remembered the last time she come here, a little less than a year ago, she had danced with V before he set off to complete his revenge. Oh, what a day it had been, what a terrible, wonderful day. The country had gained its freedom, but she had lost V. It had been the day her heart had broken.

The next five days were spent wandering the streets, sleeping in dark doorways down dark alleys, the night held no fear for her anymore. The small amount of money that had been in her pocket when she had left home went towards a sandwich and a bottle of water, she wasn't discomfited by this though, her body had gotten used to little sustenance in the previous months.

By the time the fifth of November arrived, Evey's mind was muzzy with exhaustion and her body was using all the energy it received to keep itself warm. She had avoided several search teams, no doubt organised by Dennis, she spared a thought for him, he must be worried, but it was hard to think properly about anything.

The door was unlatched, just as she'd left it a year ago, and it opened with a creak. She felt tears start in her eyes at the familiar smell that permeated the air, roses and dust. She was surprised that the roses had continued to grow without being tended, but in her weariness, the thought didn't set of alarm bells, just seemed right… of course they should still be alive. One arm wrapped around herself, she wiped her eyes with her free hand, and collapsed into the familiar couch, soaking into its warmth as a chill wracked her body, she hadn't been properly warm in days, although it felt much, much longer.

Tears falling freely now, she went to the video collection that V had loved so much and searched through it for his favourite. He had loved this film so much; she wanted to see it once more before…

She flicked the TV off regretfully once it had finished. For a moment she considered going to the kitchen, to find something to eat before remembering that anything in there would be long stale by now. It was a strange, she thought, as she walked quietly through the halls that made his home, she could almost feel his presence, as if he still lived here. It was a nice thought, and she almost smiled as she imagined both of them living here as ghosts. At least she'd get to see him again.

She was too distracted to look around properly, she glanced into the room she had stayed in while living here, nothing had moved, it looked exactly as it had the day she'd left.

A last regretful look at the suit of armour standing alone by the wall, a last longing look at the juke box, and she decided that it was time. She moved to where the roses grew. There they grew, as scarlet as heart's-blood, and shedding their perfume like a fountain, again she was surprised by their resilience.

Putting that thought out of her head, she reached for the secateurs that lay on a nearby sideboard, covered with dust, and chose a flower, snipping it off gently near the base of the stem. She paused, taken a moment by a fancy to weave herself a glarland of roses, but she dismissed it, she was worth no more than one.

Eyes downcast, she left the room and walked to a small inconspicuous doorway. She opened it, feeling an irrational moment of fear as she looked down the stone corridor and saw the plastic mannequin dressed as a guard, still leaning against the wall. She looked at him curiously as she passed, wondering how she'd ever believed he was real.

The cell was cold, but she didn't hesitate to strip out of her dirty clothes and pull on the brown tunic that still lay folded in the corner.

There, that was better.

She felt stronger then than she had in a long time, she wasn't afraid anymore, she would just fall asleep and never wake up. Folding her other clothes, she sat them neatly in a pile in the corner, a last whimsical desire to have everything perfect. With a sigh, she lay down on the cold floor, still holding the rose, and fell asleep.

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Please let me know what you think.

Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh my, a chapter two up quite this fast? I must be mad. Chapter three hopefully forthcoming soon.

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He sighed as he opened the door to the Gallery. He had picked off a couple more of the straggling Norsefire members today in what would look like an accident to anyone investigating. Such a shame, they would say, such a shame for them both to have been on that bridge as it collapsed into the icy waters below, and how lucky no-one else had been on it at the same time.

He smiled beneath his mask, Evey was safe from two more plotters. His smile faded, though, as he thought of her, he had kept up with the news in his hidden home and had been worried when he heard that Party Spokesman Evey Hammond had been declared missing. At first he had entertained the thought that she might have returned here, but so far he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her. From what he learned from the two who had died today, Norsefire had nothing to do with it

V sighed again, she had done what he had hoped and organised the new world, whenever he had seen her on the telly she had looked vibrant and glowing with passion and he had ached to see her in person once more, but he refused to allow it. The temptation would be too great, he believed, it was better that she believed he had died. She needed to concentrate on her new life, not wallow in history. He would remain in the shadows and make sure that she was allowed to do so.

He looked around the main room, sensing something subtly different about the place. His gaze fell upon the kitchen table, no, all was right there. It was just something… indefinable, he decided before sighing. It was probably just his imagination. Calmly he sat down the couch and switched on the news, perhaps the 'accident' would be mentioned, or perhaps there was some more news of his Evey.

"The search for spokeswoman Evey Hammond continues into its fifth day," sad the woman on the screen, "I'm standing right now in Miss Hammond's apartment where police are searching for any clues as to her whereabouts." V tuned the woman out and instead allowed his eyes to follow the camera, sub-consciously looking for any sign of his Eve. He was a little surprised by the sparseness of her home, there was her coat, thrown over a chair, but there were no other indications that anyone even lived there. It wasn't a home at all.

His attention snapped back to the reporter as she finished her piece, "Colleagues have reported that Miss Hammond was suffering signs of depression before her disappearance, whether this has any bearing on the case in question is still to be determined. Laura Hanley, BBC News."

V leaned back on the couch. Depression? Not his Evey, she'd hadn't looked depressed… He cursed himself silently, if he hadn't been so determined on protecting himself, he might have seen her as she truly was, not the graven image that was lauded by the land. A hand drifted to his temple as he flicked the TV screen off and watched the blank screen as it crackled with left over static.

There! The subtle change leapt out at him now that he had noticed it, how had he not seen it before? Two quick steps brought him to the cabinet where the empty video case sat. He was usually so meticulous when it came to things being in their proper spot. But what was on the tape, his hand pressed the eject button, and with a whir and a groan, he could see the title. He paused in shock, either he had watched this film in his sleep (and the last time he remembered seeing it was many months ago, it brought up too many painful memories), or _she_ was here. Standing upright, he immediately strode through the rooms, looking for any sin of his one-time guest. He tried her old room first, he hadn't touched it since she'd disappeared from his life, as if leaving her hand to be the last to touch the bed, the door, would make it easier for her to return.

The room was empty, and he felt the first glimmering of doubt, but he brushed it away, it _had_ to be her, no-one else knew where his hide-out was, no one else would watch that particular film and just leave.

For the first time since he arrived home, he used his voice, "Evey? Evey! I know you're here will you come out?" It felt like some perverse game of hide and seek. He went through the rooms methodically until he was back in the main room. She wasn't here.

Hands trembling, he cursed himself, had she really been here? Was he going mad? He sincerely hoped not, but the wish to see Evey here, safe, was too much, perhaps he was imagining it.

Tired steps led him to the alcove where grew his roses. Their original purpose gone now, they merely provided him with vivid life in his lifeless home. His thoughts still firmly on Eve, he picked up the secateurs and placed them on the shelf that was their home.

It took him a moment to realise what he had done, and he looked at the gardening shears in wonder, he hadn't cut a rose in a year, why…

And realisation came, insidiously, one of the roses was cut, sheared off, leaving only the cross section of the moist green stem. She had been here, and she intended… He couldn't bring himself to put it into words. Urgency giving him strength he hadn't known existed, he re-searched the house, making sure no corner was left untouched, he even went up to the balcony, stories above, but she wasn't there. He was alone in the softly falling rain. Ah, but realisation hadn't done with him yet, and the rain made him think of her prison. He hadn't gone into that space since she had come out of it, he had hated himself as she had hated him, except that he wasn't sure he'd entirely forgiven himself.

His steps slower now, scared of what might be revealed, he entered the grey-walled prison and the small cell in which she had been held and made, all those months ago…

She lay, as still as death, and twice as cold, and his heart broke.

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I'm not so sure I like this chapter. But nevertheless, I hope you do :) 


	3. Ten years later

Excerpt from daily newspaper, ten years after Hammond's disappearance.

The reason for Spokeswoman Evey Hammond's disappearance was never fully explained. Rumours were rife in early 21st Century Britain, although two theories slowly became more popular than the rest. The first was that she had been abducted, whether by a political rival, or an enemy from the old administration, perhaps even from another country. The reasoning behind this was sound, Hammond was a highly recognisable member of society, and had been instrumental in the defeat of no few amount of people during the fall of Norsefire.

However there is little to no evidence pointing to the fact that this is actually what occurred, there was no sign of a struggle in Hammond's residence, no broken locks or fingerprints, no phone calls, with cctv footage from her apartment block showing her leaving alone and apparently of her own volition. This has not, however, stopped many people believing that she met her end through foul play. They point to the fact that she could have been given a message at any point in time in the previous weeks, asking her to meet a friend or colleague who then lured her into a trap. Several people were questioned during the months after her disappearance, but police were satisfied that all peoples interviewed were innocent of any wrong doing.

The second theory is one of suicide. If the reports of depression are true, it may lend weight to this argument. It occurred on a significant date to Hammond, and one that was of national importance, and many people believed that this was a legitimate reason. This author guesses that the people who believed that are the same ones who believe that there are more suicides during the Christmas season that an any other point during the year, an urban myth that has been disproved by several leading mental health experts.

Evidence for this theory includes the lack of care she displayed for herself in the previous weeks, following with leaving her apartment with no means of providing for herself.

The third and most prevailing theory, at least in the public's imagination, is that she was 'rescued' by V, the hero of the previous years revolution, despite all reports that he had actually died in the train crash that destroyed the Houses of Parliament. It is tempting to believe that he, someone who reportedly survived Larkhill Detention Centre and the testing that went on there (as detailed in the report "Larkhill's hidden truth"), could have planned this all to make us believe in his demise, it remains unlikely that he would have remained hidden on the day following his great success. All his plans fulfilled, it would have taken a strange man indeed not to claim his victory when the vast majority of people considered him a hero.

Nevertheless, there remains an intrinsic belief that is deeply embedded in the popular psyche of Evey Hammond's return to the man who gave her everything, despite all evidence to the contrary, and despite all rational thinking to the contrary. Popular imagination is something that is almost impossible to sway once it is set on a romantic image of a happy ending.

Nevertheless, until we manage to find any evidence one way or another, it seems pointless to argue any case. After five years, and in lieu of any surviving relatives, Hammond's wealth and possessions were used to create a new charity for orphans like herself, so that they could be provided with the best care and education possible. If Evey is still alive today, she has not stepped forward to reclaim her property, which would lead us to believe that she approves of this move, and wishes us well in our aims and goals for the future.

The final chapter. I thought it was about time I finished it. The ending is ambiguous, but I prefer to leave it that way, apologies if it leaves you unsatisfied. 


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